


Whatever It Takes

by WhitenyRose



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitenyRose/pseuds/WhitenyRose
Summary: Surana. That was the name she had given them. Not that she spoke much. It was a wonder how she lead the ragtag band, yet somehow, she did. Plain and bland and unremarkable. Except when she fought. She was sparks and fire and fury and fierce. Maybe that fire would catch. Just maybe she could become the person, the Warden, that Ferelden and all of Thedas needed.





	Whatever It Takes

**Author's Note:**

> If any one is here from my Naruto fanfic, I swear I do still plan to finish it, I just have so many other things I've been wanting to start posting so I can't help myself.
> 
> If not, ignore that.
> 
> I have decided (at this point anyway and may go back and change it later) that I will use the general idea of what was said in the game rather than the exact lines from all characters. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys reading this, and I apologize now, I will take absolutely forever to update and it will be completely sporadic. However, I hope you'll stick with me anyway.
> 
> As always kudos, comments, criticism are all always welcomed and appreciated.

She was tiny, which the elvhen typically were. But still. There was something so very small about her. It made him feel large and clumsy and he had only been in her presence for a few seconds. Not to mention she had caught him practically taunting a mage. Alistair knew better than to make jokes. Now if only he could get his filter to work properly. Which he wasn’t betting would happen anytime soon, if ever. Truly, the Chantry should have killed it good and dead, but no, they most certainly hadn’t.

“Funny how war brings people together,” he threw flippantly to the girl.

“You are an interesting man,” she responded with a deadpan expression. But if he wasn’t mistaken there was just a glint of laughter in her eyes. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be a mage would you?” With his luck she would be and he would have already offended--

“I am, not that I fault you.”

Well shit.

Then it occurred to him, “Damn I should have realized. You’re the new recruit Duncan brought. Nice to meet you. I’m Alistair, which you probably already know.”

“Nice to meet you, Alistair. Call me Surana,” her voice was soft, warm. 

And perhaps the softness that radiated from the elf was part of the smallness. It was almost as if she wished to go completely unnoticed. That kind of personality might not bode will for her given what he knew was coming.

The Joining. The fight. From what Duncan had told him, she was a Circle mage and probably hadn’t been taught a lick of useful battle magic. The Circle and the Templars tended to keep that kind of training for experienced and trustworthy mages. Or as trustworthy as Templars ever believed mages to be. He had seen it first hand before Duncan had recruited him.

This mage was young. It was hard to tell exactly with elves, they seemed to age slower, or perhaps just not show their age. But still young. So young looking in fact, that he was almost afraid she was little more than a child. He wasn’t very old himself but he’d passed his nineteenth birthday. 

She could have been twelve or ninteen and he would have no way of knowing. Alistair guessed she had passed her harrowing, but knowing Duncan perhaps not. Which was not a thought that settled particularly well with him.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t inclined to judge until he knew this recruit. He may very well be fighting alongside her for years to come and he was hoping not to alienate her too quickly. Given of course, he hadn’t already.

“Have you met the other recruits?”

He received a shrug and a shake of her head. Apparently she wasn’t inclined. Which really didn’t bode well for them getting along. An almost Templar and a mage who didn’t seem to like people. 

“Well whenever you’re ready we can go meet Duncan and get started.”

 

Well, Alistair really wasn’t sure what was going on. The diminutive elf was one hell of a fighter. And yet still seemed to fade away the minute the enemies were gone. She spoke frankly, quietly, and only when necessary. 

And now she had them looking for a flower. For a dog. He was a fan of Mabari so he didn’t mind, but she clearly liked the animal much better than people. She had barely said a word to the other two recruits, she hadn’t asked any questions of Duncan. Just agreed to go into the Wilds and do what was asked.

They had easily gotten the darkspawn blood. Afterall there were certainly a lot of darkspawn. Now they were headed toward the ruins of a former Grey Warden tower where Duncan hoped to find ancient treaties.

Shouldn’t be much further. He really did want to get back to Ostagar. There were only the four of them in the Wilds. He could sense darkspawn but still there was danger, and he could just now start to feel the growing horde drawing closer and closer.

They created a small hill and could see a few hills and a good twenty minute walk away, the ruins they were searching for. Granted there were certainly darkspawn between here and there but they were almost done. 

But then, of course, because he didn’t ever seem to have good luck, there was a witch.

A Witch of the Wilds in fact. One who had stolen their treaties!

“I did not steal them. The ward that protected them failed long ago,” the sharp eyed witch glared at him.

“Oh well….” he really wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Well give them back.”

“I cannot. Tis not I who removed them.”

Now it was Surana who spoke, “Then will you take us to whoever did?”

Now the witches eyes shifted to the woman, a glimmer of interest lighting her cold gaze, “Now that is a smart question.” 

She paused, “Twas in fact my mother.”

And off they went, and they met a woman who called herself Flemeth. Which was either the scariest truth he had heard in a long time or a lie. He really, really, really, hoped it was a lie.

And then back to Ostagar, where he could take a deep breath and feel just a little more like Alistair. He could have a little less responsibility.

However, that did mean that the Joining would happen soon. And the Joining would be hard to watch. It was so, harsh.

 

Morrigan was not sure what she thought of the small elf she had met at the ruins. She had followed the party as they fought toward them, curious and more impressed than she would admit with the mage’s skills. She would have never expected such fierce magic from a closeted and cowed Circle mage. 

And she did seem cowed, but there was an intelligence beneath it. So she wasn’t as completely disgusted as she could have been. The others who had been with the elf, truly unworthy of even a moment of her time.

The dumb blonde who apparently had not even an ounce of backbone was particularly repugnant.

Luckily they were gone from her Wilds and were back to preparing for the battle to come. Another thing she would rather say she had no interest in, except that one could not simply ignore the Blight. 

So she had an invested interest in the Grey Wardens, the potential Grey Wardens, and keeping them alive. 

The battle was coming, and the fate of much more than a few Grey Wardens or soldiers or a king rested on what happened here. Mother knew this was more than just a few darkspawn. However she knew, Mother’s knowledge ran deep. A true Blight it was.

The Archdemon would come. Maybe not here, not now. But come it would. 

So, Morrigan returned to the small hut she shared with her Mother where they would both wait and watch.

 

“Ah, you are awake, Mother will be pleased,” the elf pushed herself up to sitting. There were bandages around her torso, her shoulder. The wounds were magically healed, Mother’s work. The darkspawn arrows had sunk deep. But not dead was better than dead.

“Alistair?”

“The dimwitted one who was with you before? Yes he is fine. He is outside with Mother.”

Surana, that was what the other Warden had called her, set her bare feet on the floor. Paused a moment assessing her ability to stand. Clearly believing she was capable of such a thing she rose to her feet.

“Thank you Morrigan.”

“I, you are welcome. Though it was Mother who healed you.”

Morrigan pointed to the chest at the foot of the bed. “Your armour and staff.”

The elf nodded and began to slowly dress. Her muscles clearly stiff, exhausted from the fighting, injury and the subsequent healing. 

“Mother wants to see you now that you are awake. And I will make soup.”

Golden eyes tracked the slight figure as she moved the short distance across the cabin and out the door. An odd girl. She didn’t know what to think. But no matter. The two Wardens would leave soon enough.

 

Grey Wardens! She had found Grey Wardens! She had just known her dream been something more than just a dream, and now there was a path very clearly before her. 

Leliana spun and landed a kick against the unarmored back of a soldier’s knee. Loghain’s, the new Regent’s, men who had been sent to kill any remaining Wardens. So many, very many lives lost at Ostagar, the king and almost all of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. 

Her dagger sunk into the flesh of one man, slipping between the gap between the plate armor. There was a gasping breath and a sucking sound as she yanked the blade back out. There was a gurgle of sound and a thump as the body fell to the floor.

The Warden’s and their companion were excellent fighters. Not that she expected any less. The other patrons in the tavern had moved back or run. But the fight was quick and dirty and over. The captain of the group knew a losing battle when he saw one. Already two men down. He surrendered. 

“Run back to Loghain,” the elvhen Warden hissed, “tell him the Warden’s come for him.”

“Yes,” the warrior stuttered, already shifting toward the exit, his men moved as well trying not to catch their attention, “I will, I will be sure to tell them.”

And then Loghain's soldiers were gone and Leliana was left standing with the other three blood covered people. 

“I would very much like to accompany you on your journey to fight the Blight. I believe there is no better cause.”

The female Warden was so, plain. Well maybe that wasn’t the best description, she was just so very bland. That wasn’t any better. With her magic she was so very colorful and lively and now she was so very not. 

“And why would you want to join?” Her voice was soft, it fit her serventile manner. 

“I had a dream,” the dark haired apostate snorted, “the Maker wants me to go with you. I am called to fight the Blight. And then to have Grey Wardens appear, my path is clear,” she hoped she conveyed exactly why it was so important to her and truly hoped that even if they thought her a bit crazy they would take her with them. They were after all only three people and a dog. Not much of a fighting force and she was very skilled with her bow and blades. 

“Odd.”

That wasn’t the reaction she had expected. Just one word. She waited for the girl to speak again.

It took long moments, then Leliana received a nod.

The woman made a choked sound, “You must have hit your head harder than Mother thought to allow this crazy Chantry sister to join!”

There was no response. The elvhen female just pushed the tavern door wide and stepped into the half light of the cloudy afternoon. 

 

Sten was well resigned to death. He had been since he had become part of the Beresaad. One could not be a true warrior and fear death. Death was part of life, it was part of fighting. 

He had not expected to end up in this cage, but it was fitting. He had lost his soul and had murdered innocents in rage. The humans had found him and he had allowed them to put him in this cage.

He was here to observe the Blight. To answer the question for the Arishok. He suspected he would find his answer when the darkspawn came and killed him. Yet he would of course, never be able to bring that answer to his people. 

And if by some miracle he survived, he would still be unable to return. Without his soul he was as good as dead.

And resigned was the only thing to be. 

So he stared out at the land, the sky, and he waited.

And then an annoying small human showed up. Another one. Plenty had come to poke at him, physically and verbally while he had been caged here. He ignored them mostly.

This one however just watched and did not speak. Her companions watched her clearly confused. 

He looked at the small human, trying to decide why she stood here. Not a small human, he noticed the pointed ears. An elf then. He wasn’t sure of the differences beyond stature and ears. It mattered not.

“Leave me in peace,” he was tired of this nonsense.

“Why are you caged?” the elf.

“I killed innocents”

Another long silence from the elf.

The red haired sister spoke. “He speaks the truth. He killed the whole family, including the children.”

“Is this true?” The elf’s face betrayed nothing, the blonde male looked shocked and horrified, the sister pitying, the dark haired woman seemed more curious than anything.

“It is true.” Sten would not lie, there was no point.

“They trap this magnificent creature. If you will not free him then at least be merciful and kill him now before the darkspawn do.”

“What would you do if I released you? I am in need of companions, fighters. I am a Grey Warden.”

He felt true interest, despite the elf looking female he had hear that Grey Wardens were fierce warriors. “If you wish it I would travel with you to fight this Blight. The Reverend Mother is the one with the key.”

At this the elf looked to the sister. The sister looked uncomfortable but she spoke after a few moments, “Very well, we can go talk to her. He would be more useful trying to atone for his sins.”

 

Leliana could barely believe she was trying to convince the Reverend Mother to release the Qunari. Part of her wanted to be merciful to him. Part of her wanted him dead. But they came away with the key. The Warden accepted that any lives he took from this point forward would be on her head.

What an interesting person this mage was. Leliana had met so many people, in Orlais, in Ferelden, as a minstrel, as a sister. And she wasn’t sure any of them were like Surana. 

She felt drawn to Surana. So soon after meeting her. Which she tried to explain away with her dream from the Maker. And perhaps that was some of it, drawn to the Wardens perhaps. But no she was fairly sure this was something else.

If for no other reason than she could see the same draw pulling at the other members of their group. Alistair seemed content with Surana when he should have no reason to be. Morrigan seemed to have a growing respect for the elf when every word from her mouth was practically acidic and she had no love for “caged” mages. 

And Leliana felt it, whatever it was. She simply liked the girl. A girl who was younger than she had any right to be. A girl who still came across so often as flat and boring. The same girl who had sparks and fire.

Very well buried sparks and fire. But there were glimpses. When she made decisions. When she fought.

And maybe even that incongruency was part of why they were all so intrigued. 

Which was perhaps even stranger given that Leliana had only traveled with them for two days, they had only barely left Lothering and only long enough to help solve a few of the problems laying outside the village proper. 

They were returning to the Qunari in the cage to set him free. They had just left the merchant outside the Chantry with a good deal of money for a very large sword and armor. What could easily be an extremely costly mistake. And yet they had purchased her armor as well. 

Surana turned the key in the lock, with a click and a screech of metal, the door to the cage opened and the Qunari stepped out.

“I will follow you until you no longer have need of me.”

He accepted the armor and weapon as the elf handed them over and then began to pull on the pieces. 

 

Sten was not at all sure what type of elf, what type of Grey Warden, this was. They had fought what seemed to be every dangerous creature and human that surrounded the town of Lothering. They had fought as they traveled north. Wolves and spiders and raiders and desperate refugees and darkspawn. 

They had been paid for some of the fighting so he understood those fights and the ones where they had been attacked, but not the others which benefited them and their purpose in no way. Especially when the weapons and armor in the group were rather lacking in quality. 

He had found that the elf Grey Warden was indeed a woman. He did not understand. The other, the male Warden, he did understand. Women are not warriors. Women are bakers and seamstresses. 

This was something for him to think on. This and very many other things. He had felt that way since arriving in Ferelden, and since having been released that had only increased. 

Now they found themselves camping relatively close to the Imperial Road but far enough for their fires to be unseen by the road. 

They were also camped with a dwarf and his son who was addled in some way. 

He had discovered over the meals they had eaten around the fire that all these companions were new. The two Wardens had only known each other for just less than a month. The dog the female Warden had only had for a week. The witch they had known a week. The red haired woman they had met only days before him.

This was no well structured group. There was no true leader here. They let the elf lead, a woman who seemed to shrink into the shadows any time she wasn’t casting magic. A mage with no Avaarad. 

Two mages with no Avaarad. This was dangerous company. But there was no other place for him, so he would stay.

If he needed to take control, to help defeat this Archdemon he would do so. For now, he would wait and watch.


End file.
